Scars
by Joanie Dark
Summary: Toris lies in bed and thinks of times past... RussiaxLithuania and light LithuaniaxPoland


Toris' eyes fluttered open slowly, stuck together with sleep. It was still night-time, he noted, looking at the black sky and huge blood-red crescent moon in the sky. The window was open, letting in a chilly breeze that grazed his flesh bitterly. He shivered, though not from the wind; rather, from the thin fingers delicately tracing scars on his back.

He looked back over his shoulder to look at the blonde examining his scars. His eyes were half lidded, whether from exhaustion or concern or lust, Toris wasn't sure. He frowned slightly.

"Feliks, I was sleeping."

"Oh, I'm like, totally sorry," Feliks said, his hand pulling back quickly. There was a silence, and Toris put his head back onto the pillow. Feliks bit his lip lightly.

"Tori...did...he do that to you?" Feliks asked, and Toris closed his eyes.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the brunette man muttered, "Yes. They're Ivan's."

Felix pouted and lay on Toris' back. "I can't stand it, you know? You're totally supposed to be mine." He started tracing the scars again. "It's like, they're there, so he's there, y'know? Bummer."

Toris squeezed his eyes together tightly, trying to fall back asleep. The moon, the wind, the touch, the voice...

"You're mine..."

"You're mine, malo ptic," a voice echoed in his mind. It was higher and softer than Felix's, which Toris had always found strange, considering how much heavier and stronger the owner of this voice was. The fingers on his scar were thicker, pressing into his flesh slightly. Despite rumours otherwise, the man was actually quite warm, blanketing Toris' naked body with his own. He was thankful for the protection from the deathly cold of the room, but the man's presence was also frightening and thrilling. He was dangerous, he was the one who made those scars in the first place. But, when he thought of it, was it really so bad?

"Mojj pitomec," the voice whispered into his ear, "I want to open you again." Toris felt a shiver go down his spine. He couldn't object to the man's wish, or the punishment would be even worse. There was no choice but to give himself over to the pain.

"Get it over with," he sighed, and the larger man got up with a chuckle. Toris felt the iciness again and trembled. The cold was the worst about living with Ivan. Worse than the beatings or the near-slavery. It made him feel...alone.

He pitied Ivan. He always was in the cold, so he must have constantly felt that way. No wonder he was the way he was. If it would help the other man to relieve the pain, he would gladly take it.

Still, he winced at the first crack of leather over his back. The pain blossomed as the wound grew red, and he couldn't help but let out a little hiss of pleasure. He had to admit--he had grown to like the beatings. He wasn't sure if it was out of the pity he felt or if he had always been a secret masochist, but he couldn't fight back the little moans he would let out as he was beaten with the crop.

There was sudden searing pain and Toris bit his pillow. He could feel the blood leaking out of the split in his skin, smell its metallic scent wafting past his nose, hear the light chuckle of his dominating partner...it was enough to make him start to rise. He was embarrassed by the fact he was hardening, more and more as wounds opened.

"Dieve mano," he let out a little moan, trying to muffle it in the pillow. The lick of the crop stopped suddenly--Damn, he heard. He closed his eyes tightly.

"Did I hear you squeal, my dear Liet?" the man said softly, contrasting the rough way he jerked the smaller man's face up to meet his. Toris' eyes opened wide, staring into the pale face looming over him. His eyes were tender in a way; Toris couldn't help but wanting to cling to him. That wouldn't do, though. It wasn't what the fair-haired man wanted, not love. Right?

"N-no," he said quietly, and shuddered as he felt the riding crop gently stroke his chin.

"Are you sure? You sounded like you were enjoying yourself."

"No, Ivan. I'm just taking my punishment."

Toris was surprised to see a glimmer of what looked like sadness in Ivan's eye. Had he read him wrong? It soon disappeared, as the blonde pushed him backwards, making him flip onto his back. The older man knelt between his legs, stroking his chest with the crop and smirking as the younger winced from open wounds touching cloth. Silently he began pulling off his clothing--the scarf, the jumper, his trousers. Toris could only stare, hungry for more bits of snowy flesh to appear. His face flushed, feeling embarrassment at his desire. This was not at all how he should be reacting, he thought. Still, as the now-naked Russian pulled up his right leg and started to kiss and nip at his calf, he couldn't help his hand wandering toward his mostly-hardened cock.

"Niet," Ivan snapped, slapping Toris' hand away. "I won't have that, moja shljukha." His stern gaze turned to the offending member. "You're quite enjoying this, aren't you," he muttered, stroking it with a gloved hand. Toris bit his tongue hard enough to bleed. Ivan had never done this before when he made a sound during a beating. Usually he'd be punished, forced to sleep on the floor or do some humiliating task, but this...he wasn't sure if it was better or worse.

"Ah! Kas tai?!" Toris exclaimed, feeling something cold and wet trickling between his legs. He looked up to see Ivan tossing aside a small bottle and grinning darkly.

"I don't understand that, you know," he said softly, "but you're sure to understand this." He circled a finger around Toris' entrance as the brunette finally noticed the larger man's own erection. Could he possibly want...

He received the answer in the form of a finger being slowly pushed into his opening. He responded with a happy murr--he found it a pleasant, familiar feeling, one he had often had while fantasizing late at night. Another finger entered, and another; while he was taken slightly aback (their size was larger than that of his own, after all) he still found a low moan escaping his lips. He was throbbing, aching for Ivan to enter him.

Toris looked expectantly up at the Russian, admiring the way his blush spread on his face as he worked his fingers in and out of the Lithanian. Their eyes met, and Ivan stopped. Toris looked away in shame.

Then he felt it, the glorious stretch of flesh as Ivan entered him. He arched his back, not caring as his injuries dragged along the sheets, desperate to be filled more. It was a heavenly feeling; he regretted never having done such a thing sooner, the first time he was beaten or hell, even when he lived with Feliks. He could certainly understand why Feliks enjoyed it now, as Ivan started thrusting and hitting his prostate repeatedly, holding his hip with one gloved hand and stroking his cock with the other.

"Toris," he heard suddenly, and the hand that had been petting him grabbed his chin roughly. "Look at me." Ivan's eyes gazed into him, as if they were boring into his soul. "I want to be looking into each others' eyes when we come." He dug his fingers into Toris' chin, extracting another moan.

Mere minutes later, Toris found himself screaming Ivan's name without thought or embarrassment, not caring if anyone else in the house heard him. The waves of pleasure he rode were too much for him to care what his brothers may think. He came over his and Ivan's stomach, and a guttural groan from the other man signalled his release.

Ivan fell on Toris, panting, taking a few moments before pulling out and rolling off. He closed his eyes happily, and Toris rolled over in shame. He couldn't believe what he had just done, as wonderful as it had felt...giving into Ivan like that, their relationship as it was might be ruined. He started to fear what would happen the next day...

"Aš...Aš tave myliu..."

Toris froze. "What?"

"That's how it's said, right? Ja tebja ljublju. I love you." Ivan muttered the words quietly as he kissed the cuts on Toris' back. "Aš tave myliu..."

"Aš tave myliu, Kocham cię." Feliks gently lay little kisses on each scar, sweeter and softer than Ivan's rough kisses had been. "I, like, missed you sooo much while you were gone. I'm so totally happy you're finally back." He ran a finger over one particularly long scar. "Toris, do you love me?"

"Ah," Toris said, closing his eyes again and burying his face into the pillow, "yes, I love you."

I love you...Ivan.

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Authors Notes:

X3 I have a major thing for RussiaxLithuania. But I don't like whiney ukes. Oh no. Liet likes his beatings.

I love Google Translate :D

malo ptic--little bird (Rus)

Mojj pitomec--My pet (Rus)

Dieve mano--My god (Lith)

moja shljukha--My whore (Rus)

Kas tai?--What is that (Lith)

Aš tave myliu/Ja tebja ljublju/Kocham cię--I love you (Lith/Rus/Pol)

Originally posted at .com/art/Scars-113294921


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